Analysis of The Letters Of The Dead
Edward George Dyson 1865 (Ballarat, Victoria) – 1931 (Saint Kilda, Melbourne, Victoria)
A letter came from Dick to-day;
A greeting glad he sends to me.
He tells of one more bloody fray—
Of how with bomb and rifle they
Have put their mark for all to see
Across rock-ribbed Gallipoli.
“How are you doing? Hope all's well,
I in great nick, and like the work.
Though there may be a brimstone smell,
And other pungent hints of Hell,
Not Satan's self can make us shirk
Our task of hitting up the Turk.
“You bet old Slacks is not half bad
He knows his business in a scrim.
He gets cold steel, or we are glad
To stop him with a bullet, lad.
Or sling a bomb his hair to trim;
But, straight, we throw no mud at him.
“He fights and falls, and comes again,
And knocks our charging lines about.
He's game at heart, and tough in grain,
And canters through the leaded rain,
Chock full of mettle—not a doubt
'T will do us proud to put him out.
“But that's our job; to see it through
We've made our minds up, come what may,
This noon we had our work to do.
The shells were dropping two by two;
We fairly felt their bullets play
Among our hair for half a day.
“One clipped my ear, a red-hot kiss,
Another beggar chipped my shin.
They pass you with a vicious hiss
That makes you duck; but, hit or miss,
It isn't in the Sultan's skin
To shift Australia's cheerful grin.
“My oath, old man, though we were prone
We didn't take it lying down.
I got a dozen on my own—
All dread of killing now is flown;
It is the game, and, hard and brown,
We're wading in for freedom's crown.
“Big guns are booming as I write,
A lad is singing 'Dolly Grey,'
The shells are skipping in the night,
And, square and all, I feeling right
For, whisper, Ned, the fellows say
I did a ripping thing to-day.
“Soon homeward tramping with the band,
All notched a bit, and with the prize
Of glory for our native land,
I'll see my little sweetheart stand
And smile, her smile, so sweet and wise—
With proud tears shining in her eyes.
“Geewhiz! What price your humble when
Triumphant from the last attack,
We face a Melbourne crowd again,
Tough, happy, battle-proven men,
And while the cheer-stormed heavens crack
I bring the tattered colors back!”
A mist is o'er the written line
Whence martial ardor seems to flow;
A dull ache holds this heart of mine—
Poor boy, he had a vision fine;
But grave dust clouds the royal glow;
He died in action weeks ago!
He was my friend—I may not weep.
My soul goes out to Him who bled;
I pray for Christ's compassion deep
On mothers, lovers—all who keep
The woeful vigil, having read
The joyous letters of the dead.
Scheme | ABAABC CDCCDD EBEEFF GHIIHH JAJJAA KLKKLL MNMMNN OAOOAA PQPPQQ GRGGRR SCSSCX TUTTUU |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01011111 01011111 11111101 11110101 11111111 01111 11110111 10110101 11110101 01010111 1111111 101110101 11111111 11110001 11111111 11110101 11011111 11111111 11010101 011010101 11110101 0110101 11110101 111111111 111011111 111011111 111110111 01010111 11011101 011011101 11110111 01010111 11110101 11111111 11000101 11010101 11111101 11011101 11010111 11110111 11010101 11001101 11110111 01110101 01110001 01011101 11010101 11010111 11010101 11010101 110110101 1111011 01011101 11110001 1111101 01010101 11010101 11010101 01011101 11010101 011100101 11010111 01111111 11110101 11110101 11010101 11111111 11111111 11110101 11010111 01010101 01010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,550 |
Words | 487 |
Sentences | 24 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 159 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 40 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:30 min read
- 71 Views
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"The Letters Of The Dead" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/9598/the-letters-of-the-dead>.
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